


Excess and Ohs

by kirakirababy



Category: MEJIBRAY
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Manipulation, Gay, Gay Sex, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Infidelity, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Sexual Violence, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:43:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4582884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirakirababy/pseuds/kirakirababy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“fuck” tastes so god damned pretty when you say it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Excess and Ohs

Black bed with white stripes.  
A streak of lambent gold from the slatted blinds covering the window lashes your neck  
another bands pale thighs.  
Loose wrists just kiss the the shifting skin of rolling shoulder blades  
when you press your lips to my chest,  
stomach,  
breath heavy against encaustic scar tissue in the shape of an ancient alphabet.  
The drag of teeth and tongue precede a curtain fall of hair that rips rib from ribbon  
with every gasp  
with every aching hour.  
  
_“What did you do?”  
Bittersweet spit coats your tongue with the taste of someone else’s kiss as you wrap your battered limbs around me and press your palm to my chest.  
“You only fuck Ryoga because he reminds you of yourself.”  
Stomach to mattress, fingers writhe across fabric.  
Mouth of a jackal, “that’s a fucked up thing to say,” you state simply, smiling against a string of curses and spare ohs  
oh please oh please oh  
“Let me hate you,” I plead against your swaying pulse as my eyes stutter across drowsy lips, bruised and swollen.  
“Is this your hate?” you groan with eager broken breath, dredging words like floating corpses, “then hate me.” _  
  
My eyes roll like your hips when I scream your unchosen name into  
the stifling summer heat, the August nothingness, into the urgent buzzing of cicadas.  
I scream it like it’s a confession  
like it’s the only truth I know.  
  
_“Were you trying to make me jealous? Mia’d fuck anything with a pulse,” your breath is shockingly hot against my ear, “and if I wanted you last night, there were two bitches in the front row who looked just like you.”  
My hand is still stinging when you grab my wrists and shove me against the fridge.  
Knee between my thighs, I shudder violently when you drop your joint to the floor and a hemorrhage of smoke pours from the corners of your mouth, “sloppy seconds are trashy, there are easier ways to get my attention.”  
A plastic magnet clatters to the floor at my feet somewhere in the struggle.  
Panic blossoms from my cheeks, and I hiss against your mongrel mouth, “Let. Go.”  
Your lips hover over mine and I…  
I am still convinced when you release my wrists  
that there is no real difference between kneeling and falling,  
both an inelegant and graceless stumble.  
Either way, this, fingers tangled in hair, is the body in prayer,  
stripping its shuddering self of excess and ohs  
oh fuck oh fuck oh.  
Finally, shaking inside, you pull me off the floor,  
and I feel regret like warm honey splashed across my chin  
it coats my lips and throat.  
And I have the same salty taste in my mouth  
every time I close my eyes  
and listen you lie._  
  
Fingers and breath slipping against your angular animal.  
Your whole body is sharp, hipbones and ribs as memorable as rows of tombstones  
and Oh! Siris, how your cemetery spine curves like a question  
when I whisper  
that I see the apocalypse in you.  
  
_It’s half past midnight and I’m walking down the middle of an empty street, arms spread, choking on too many tequila shots and_  
unexpected tears.  
_After we clawed at the headboard and at each other_  
 _instead of saying sorry,_  
 _I scrubbed my skin raw_  
 _in an attempt_  
 _to rid me of you._  
 _And I still don’t know why I cried, and now..._  
 _I still don’t know why I’m here._  
 _Why I’m knocking_  
 _and why you answer._  
 _You unzip a thin smile, “what are you doing here? It’s twelve-thirty in the morning.”_  
 _Don’t you know? Your stygian eyes say, I’ll ruin you again._  
 _You know I’ve been crying, I don’t try to hide it._  
 _When your fingers brush my heated skin_  
 _I breathe into the unexpected tenderness._  
 _“Don’t cry. It’s ugly. You’ll get lines.”_  
 _I'll ruin you._  
  
Trembling and precise, your vengeful lips slice mine and  
my blood is the color of want.  
A mess of dead red that stains your skin, fills your mouth  
like Nero’s roses.  
Mouth full of moths,  
mouth like a myth I could sleep inside.  
“Fuck” tastes so goddamned pretty when you say it.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at:  
> http://sciencesaves.livejournal.com/39097.html


End file.
